Snow
by Blaue Schwertlilie
Summary: Matthew and Alfred get stuck in London because of snow, so they and Arthur decide to wait it out at one of Arthur's estates. Shameless Canada USA England fluff.


**Title:** Snow  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Canada, United Kingdom, United States; family fic  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> cavities  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Hetalia and its characters belong to Himaruya Hidekaz, I'm just borrowing them.

**Summary:** In Winter 2010, Matthew and Alfred get stuck in London because of snow, and they (+ Arthur) decide to take off to one of Arthur's estates to wait it out. Kink meme de-anon.

* * *

><p>"Why did you have to bring your weather here, Matt?" Alfred whined. "It's bad enough at home, but now you're doing a number on Europe too."<p>

"Minus fifty degrees is not normal in Alberta, Al."

"What's that in real temperature?"

Arthur smacked the back of Alfred's head, dislodging some of the snowflakes from his hair. "_Cold_, you stupid git."

Alfred dropped his shovel onto the snow, glaring. "And why do I have to shovel? Big ol' lumberjack here'll have it done all by itself."

"I didn't have Paul Bunyan," Matt murmurs, before turning his glare to his brother. "You're the one that insisted on getting out of the city to Arthur's vacation home because, and I quote, 'If I'm stuck here without electricity at least I'm going to be warm.' And I am _not_going to shovel out a driveway all by myself before driving your ass down to Dover, where we'll have to dig out yet another driveway before hauling wood to heat up the place."

"Who says you're driving?"

"Arthur can't, because have you seen the idiots on his roads? And you can't because your government can't even remember to change the gas mix in school buses when the temperature drops. How can we trust you with a real car?"

"It's not my fault that I'm not used to Arctic conditions!"

"Because you refuse to spend November through April anywhere north of DC?" He smiled sweetly at his brother.

"I come visit you!"

"To go skiing and-"

"Both of you, shut _up_." Arthur was sorely tempted to throw his own shovel at his younger brothers, but settled for gripping the shaft and pretending it was Alfred's neck. "The sooner we're done the sooner we can go somewhere warm."

* * *

><p>Arthur watched a car try to brake at a stop sign, hit the ice, and spin around 720 degrees; luckily there weren't any pedestrians, or it could have gotten ugly. "Matthew, are you sure this is a good idea?"<p>

The smile Matt flashes him reminds him too much of Alfred - bright and honest with more than a hint of mischief. "I have an international license, you know."

"But, the snow..."

Matt waves a hand. "I know you haven't really prepared, what with running low on salt, and have no snow tires, but I learned to drive in this. You know, even some all-seasons would help, despite not being worth much north of Arizona."

"Matthew, I haven't had a winter like this in over thirty years. Don't expect me to have this down perfectly."

Matt puts the last of the boxes in the trunk (it's full of meat, which might go bad if left in the unpowered freezer for the next few days; Al insisted on bringing it). "I just don't understand why your trains aren't running. When it's snow storming at home, those are the _only_things moving - you just go straight down a track, and the cow catcher clears the worst of the snow."

Arthur almost launched into a tirade, but Matt's mouth wasn't quirking like it did when he was teasing; he sighed. "Cow catchers?"

"Yeah, they were invented by one of yours, don't you remember? The metal grille that goes on the front of the train."

"Ah, yes. Can't say I've needed them recently. And it's mechanical failure, not too much snow."

Matt hummed noncommittally, and made sure that the shovels were in the back of the car.

* * *

><p>They picked a good time to leave London; most people had given up going anywhere today, and the wind wasn't strong enough for white-outs. They passed rows and rows of abandoned cars, and Alfred only complained twice about how slow they were going.<p>

Matthew murmured something about "It's only six inches, you pussies. Barely a snowfall warning."

Arthur got the feeling he wasn't supposed to hear that over the radio, but it's too late now. "Alfred, hit your brother for me."

Al punched Matt's arm, retreated back in front of the tiny heaters.

"The hell? I'm driving, here."

"Then drive, not criticise."

Matt huffed, but he kept them travelling. "... You know that the Nordics and Ivan are going to laugh behind their hands at you at the next meeting, don't you?"

Arthur nodded, watched Matt's reaction through the rear view mirror. "Yes, I've heard the 'Norway goes on winter military training at minus seventy' et cetera jokes before. And they'll laugh at you too."

"Mm, but at least I don't have a crisis trying to find places for my cattle to stay so that they don't freeze to death. I understand freaking out about your fruit, Alfred-"

"Good, 'cause you're the one who buys it-"

"-But what kind of cows are you farming that they can't take a little bit of cold? Sheesh."

Alfred doesn't wait for Arthur's permission, arm darting out to slap his brother's head. "What about you? They still haven't let you live down the time you called in the army for a foot of snow!"

"It was Toronto!"

"It's part of you!"

Arthur leaned his head against the window, and tried to ignore the squabbling. It was cold and snowy, they could leave it at that.

* * *

><p>They only had to dig the car out once, where the snow drifted across the road and Matt tried to plough through it. Matthew and Alfred spent most of the time while they shovelled arguing about whether Matt's pick-up or Al's Hummer would be better for this drive, then somehow ended up in a dancing rendition of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland." Arthur tried to stay in the car, but they hauled him out and stood him in place to be the Reverend. They received odd looks from the (few) passing cars, and (more than) a few honks.<p>

Arthur took great joy in telling the drivers where they could take their inappropriate interest, complete with hand gestures; Matt and Al leaned against their shovels, laughing until they started to cry.

* * *

><p>The country home had lost power as well, so the three decided to set up in the parlour, curled up in blankets on the floor. A hundred years earlier Arthur would have been scandalised, but now he just accepted a steaming hamburger from Alfred.<p>

Alfred licked a bit of meat juice from his own thumb. "You know, this is kind of like the old days. Before electricity."

Arthur heard a "before everything got fucked up" underneath the tone, and nodded. "Back when you would steal all the blankets."

Matt laughed. "You say that like he stopped."

"Hey now - I have info on you too, baby brother."

Matt snorted. "Like what?"

"Francis gets nostalgic when he goes drinking with me."

Arthur gestured absently with his burger. "That's information on Francis. It's hardly relevant."

"Ah, but he goes on about how 'his Matthieu' was so cute, with such an adorable little accent, and why won't you climb into bed with him like you used to?"

Arthur spat his tea, and Matt growled "I didn't."

"You used to sneak into bed with him when he was visiting, and when he woke up you'd be curled into his side and had a death grip on his nightshirt."

"Says the one who snuck into _my_bed when we were children."

"Na-uh, you got scared and came running into mine."

"It was about equal, as I recall." Arthur set his teacup safely under the divan. "Including the mornings I woke up with both of you clinging to me. Tell me Matthew, has Alfred grown out of having cold feet?"

"Let's see." Matthew's grin was wicked as he reached over and grabbed his brother's foot, stripped off the thick wool sock. "Not yet," he said, running his fingertips down the sole.

"Matt!" Al squirmed. "Stop it!"

"Make me."

Arthur pulled his legs out of the way as Alfred tacked his brother, and they rolled across the floor. Some things never changed.

* * *

><p>Arthur woke to cold feet against the back of his calves. "Alfred, what-"<p>

He heard Alfred chuckle softly. "Sorry, I had to check the fire."

"Hm." He processed several things at once - that the twins were cuddled up against him, Matthew to his front and Alfred spooned against his back, despite having had separate blanket piles when they'd fallen asleep. That despite having gotten up and leaving, Alfred was curled back around him, arm slung over his waist. That Matthew still drooled in his sleep, but he at least had his own pillow. That - thank God - everyone's clothes were still on. He huffed, his breath ruffling Matthew's hair. "Why are you still here and not- not across the room?"

"You're warm," he said, and Arthur could hear the gentle smile. "And you have more blankets to steal."

"Idiot."

Matthew mumbled in half French, half Cantonese, and latched on to Arthur's shirt with one hand.

Arthur frowned. "Your brother's an idiot too."

"Which brother, you or Matt?"

"Matthew, you git." He made an irritated noise, but didn't protest, when Alfred nuzzled his hair.

"G'night, Arthur."

"Good night." And to prove to both of them that he wasn't enjoying this - not at _all_- he pushed his feet between Alfred's shins to warm them up.

Alfred's jump made the embarrassing position worth it, and Arthur drifted back to sleep. When he dreamed, it was of deep forests, open plains, and a caterpiller-eyebrowed snowman.


End file.
